


Midnight Soba

by Twyd



Series: 3am Pocky [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Crushes, Dating, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Izaya runs into Shizuo in Shinjuku, and refuses to leave him alone.





	Midnight Soba

Izaya sees Shizuo in Shinjuku  _ again _ . The first time alone had been a miracle. OK, not a miracle, it wasn’t a million miles away from Ikebukuro, but still. Ikebukuro was a neighbourhood, whereas Shinjuku was a labyrinth. What’s more, he sees Shizuo in Shinjuku station, complete with its 200 exits. It’s not rush hour, but it’s not exactly quiet either. 

“Shizu-chan!”

There’s a pinch more joy than spite in his call, but Shizuo doesn’t seem to notice; he is frowning at Izaya.

“What do you want?” Shizuo growls, as Izaya trots into conversation distance. His fingers twitch, but there are no stop-signs, trash-cans, street-lamps or even vending machines to throw. Poor Shizu-chan.

“What are you doing in Shinjuku again? Ha, I feel like our roles have swapped. Do you want me to chase you? Or did you come here to thank me for my hospitality last time?”

“I already thanked you.”

Shizuo turns away from him and continues into the depth of the station - the wrong way for Ikebukuro. Izaya trots after him.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I’m commuting,” Shizuo says. “I work in Nakano now.”

“You’re kidding,” Izaya says, spluttering with laughter. “You’ve officially been fired from every single job in Ikebukuro, even one your friend got you, so you’re having to branch out?” His laughter seems to echo through the station, causing people to glance at him nervously and Shizuo’s teeth to grit.

“No,” Shizuo growls. “It’s temporary. Tom’s away for a while. Pay’s good and the people are nice.”

“But you have to commute.”

“Duh.”

“No duh. You could walk. It’d only take you an hour. I walk to Ikebukuro all the time. I think I’ve even walked to Nakano from Ikebukuro once. You go through the Takanodababa area. Good noodle shops.”

“Yeah, but you’re crazy,” Shizuo points out. “And I have to walk all night in my job anyway. It’s tiring.”

Izaya doesn’t argue. He is waiting for Shizuo to explode, which doesn’t take long.

“Where the fuck is the fucking Yamanote line?!”

“It’s back there,” Izaya says mildly, as helpful as a ticket officer. He gestures easily, as the crowd parts around Shizuo like he is a volcano. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?” he snarls, heading back. “And what are  _ you _ doing here flea, if you walk everywhere?”

“I get tired sometimes too,” he says.  _ That, and I saw you. _

Shizuo keeps walking and doesn’t respond. It is apparently too much effort to start a real fight with Izaya in these circumstances. “It’s so fucking hot down here.”

“Get a drink,” Izaya suggests. “Do these nice people you work with not give you any?”

“I left there a while ago, I got lost,” he grumbles. “It took me ages to get the train out of Nakano cos there was so many people.”

“The joys of commuting,” Izaya says. “I’m glad I’m not reduced to such measures.”

“I’m very happy for you.”

He gives Izaya a little push, but he isn’t really concentrating on him; he is looking around himself as the understanding gains on his face.

“I’ve gone the wrong way again.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to help me.”

“Nope.”

Shizuo growls in frustration and starts walking again, presumably picking a direction at random.

“This is all your fault. It’s because I’m paying attention to you instead of focussing on where I’m going.”

“I’m honoured. Can you not communicate and navigate at the same time? Because I’m sure even most animals can do that.”

“What do you  _ want _ , Izaya?”

Shizuo stops to address him, so suddenly that some poor girl almost smacks into him from behind. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“What do I want?” Izaya repeats, all wounded innocence.

“Yes. You’re following me around.”

Izaya shrugs and says nothing. He goes quiet when people actually want him to speak. 

Apparently giving up, Shizuo heads for the nearest exit. 

“You’re walking?” Izaya calls after him.

They are a few yards from the right platform, and then Shizuo will be home in 20 minutes.

“I’m going for a drink,” Shizuo grumbles. “Maybe it’ll get less busy. Then I’ll ask someone where I need to go.”

“Can I come?”

“Not like I can stop you.”

Izaya changes tack then and guides them somewhere where they will actually be able to sit down, and not be overcharged. Shizuo does not seem very grateful, although he does insist on paying when Izaya orders.

“You let me stay at your place,” he says, by way of explanation. 

“Good to see you’re working on your principles.”

“Fuck you. I have principles. More principles than you, anyway.”

They don’t drink to anything. They sip in silence, and Izaya can feel Shizuo gradually cool down. 

“Nakano has good noodle shops too,” he says suddenly. It takes Izaya a moment to connect the dots.

“Thinking of working there permanently?”

“No. Just sayin’. Though it would get me away from you.”

“Don’t be so sure. Shinjuku’s on your way home.”

“Right.”

More silence. It’s not awkward, but Izaya feels Shizuo’s night in his apartment hanging between them like an invisible cloud. He doesn’t know what Shizuo’s thinking, but Izaya’s thinking if they can sleep in each other’s presence, if they can drink together...but whatever. Shizuo’s probably just thinking about how tired he is and that he wants to go home. 

“Why did you let me stay over that night?” Shizuo asks suddenly, giving Izaya the unpleasant shiver of having his mind read. He shrugs under Shizuo’s gaze.

“Why not. It’s good to keep you guessing.”

“Keep me guessing whether you might invite me to your apartment or not?”

Izaya looks at him, deadpan.

“You’re taking me too literally.”

“I’m not. I’m just teasing you.”

_ Was _ he? That would be a first.

Shizuo resumes before Izaya can figure it out.

“I thought you would have cloned my ID or something. But nothing’s happened.”

“Of course not. I don’t do petty crime.”

“Except getting me fired.”

“Yes,” he titters. “You must tell me where this bar of yours in Nakano is.”

“No.”

“I’ll find out.”

“Then find out. I’m not telling you.”

“Suit yourself. Why do you ask about my apartment anyway? Hinting to stay over again and scrap the commute all together?”

Shizuo gives him a funny look.

“No.”

The novelty of drinking has worn off and Izaya is no longer enjoying it. He doesn’t suggest another drink when he finishes his own.

“Why did  _ you _ bring it up?” Shizuo says suddenly. “You opening a hotel or what?”

Izaya gives him a look that’s not quite a glare.

“Teasing you.”

Shizuo snorts.

“Whatever. Maybe you’re just lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” he says, stung. “I’m very busy.”

“You can be busy and lonely.”

“You would know.”

“Everyone knows.”

Shizu-chan philosophising. Whatever next. 

Shizuo finishes his own drink and says,

“Want another?”

“Sure,” Izaya hears himself saying, despite his plans to watch Shizuo charge round the station some more. “Same again.”

Shizuo goes away and comes back with two drinks, none of which look like the martini Izaya ordered. One of them looks like a cocktail. Shizuo puts this offending object before Izaya, ignoring his death glare.

“This isn’t what I ordered.”

“I know. You’ll like it more.”

Izaya stares at him in disbelief. 

“I was a bartender for a long time,” Shizuo shrugs. “You kind of get a feel for the things people will like.”

“You’re a terrible bartender, you could never hold down a job. I’m not drinking it.”

“OK,” Shizuo says impassively.

Izaya glares at him and then at his drink. What an idiot. He takes a sip just to prove his point. The he has to take another to make sure he’d tasted it right. Shizuo is grinning at him. 

“See?”

“Well done, it seems you’re not entirely useless.” He huffs. “So it’s better than a dry martini, big deal. I’m sure plenty of drinks are.”

“No kidding,” Shizuo says. “The bar I’m at now does specialised cocktails they’ve invented themselves. You wouldn’t believe how good some of them are.”

“Cocktails are just sugar.”

“Not all of them. One of them was so bitter I almost spat it out.”

“Charming,” Izaya says. He looks at Shizuo closely. “You sound like you’re getting nostalgic for bar-tending life.”

“No way,” Shizuo says. “But it’s shown me the better side of it. It’s a really nice place. Even behind the scenes, it never gets nasty or anything.”

It has become easier to talk at some point. Perhaps it’s the drink. 

“I’ll get this one,” Izaya offers when they’re done, and to his surprise Shizuo agrees. He gets Shizuo to tell him what he’d just had so he can get it again, ignoring the other’s grin. 

Izaya has to be careful here, because no matter what his drink was, what the circumstances, what he’d had to eat, the third drink always pushes him over the edge of tipsiness. He can feel himself getting there now.

He also thinks he’s doing quite well at hiding it, but Shizuo grins at him when he’s about halfway down his third.

“You really can’t handle your drink, can you?”

“Just because I’m not a raging alcoholic like yourself doesn’t mean I can’t handle my drink.” He shouldn’t have picked such a complicated sentence; he slurs a bit. “I haven’t eaten,” he adds.

“Me neither.”

“Huh. Shame we’re not in Nakano for some late night noodles.”

He doesn’t suggest they go somewhere nearby. It is not good for him to be out much longer after his third drink. 

“ ‘ Time’s the last train?” Shizuo asks him.

Izaya looks at his watch leisurely, having to mask his surprise at how late it is.

“Half an hour ago.”

“You’re lying.” Shizuo takes out his phone to google it, and kicks Izaya under the table. “I knew it. You’re such a dick.”

“You should lighten up,” Izaya says, chuckling.

“I have half an hour, unless you’re going to invite me over again.”

“Too late, my offer has expired."

“Figures,” Shizuo’s sighs. “I have to go then.” He downs the rest of his drink. Izaya watches him swallow, thinking about it. But not, he can’t have anyone in his home when he’s tipsy, let alone Shizuo, even if he was tipsy too. There’d be nothing to do but drink even more, and then Izaya would start saying things, and that would not be good. 

Shizuo catches his eye.

“You coming?”

Izaya obediently tips back his glass until its empty and follows Shizuo out.

“You gonna get me lost again?”

“I need to go through the tunnel to get home. I might show you the right platform on my way.”

“Thanks.”

Izaya feels his drink more in the station, passing everyone else’s bored, sober faces. 

He doesn’t point out Shizuo’s platform until they’ve almost passed it, and he doesn’t stop when he does. Shizuo calls out after him, something that could have been ‘thanks’ or ‘hey,’ but Izaya doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow until he’s home, and it’s only once he’s showered, undressed and in bed that he can breathe normally again.

-

Izaya doesn’t know if Shizuo’s avoiding him or if it’s the other way round, but they don’t see each other, in Ikebukuro or elsewhere. Izaya has been busy - he’s always busy - and not particularly keening for a fight, and Shizuo would be in Nakano. Izaya makes sure he avoids the station on his way home, just in case. 

Things go on in this way until Shizuo calls him. Izaya stares at his phone before picking up. Shizuo has only called him before to yell at him, and even that hasn’t happened for a while, because Izaya tended to just hang up. Maybe it was a pocket dial.

He waits another ring to steady himself before answering.

“Shizu-chan?”

“Izaya-kun.” Not a pocket dial then. Shizuo doesn’t seem to be in a yelling mood either. “It’s my last night at the bar in Nakano. Want to come and see it?”

“What?” He waits for some sort of explanation. “Do you think I’m someone else?”

Shizuo laughs down the phone.

“It’s my last night, so you can’t do anything to get me fired. And I told them about you in case you make trouble for them, and they said they can handle it. But I don’t think you will. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m not coming,” Izaya snaps. “Do you think I’m stupid? It’s obviously an ambush.”

“An ambush?” Shizuo repeats. “What do you think I am, Batman?”

His stupid laugh comes again. He’s obviously drunk.He must be. 

“Are you coming or not, Izaya-kun?” he says. “I can’t stay on the phone all night.”

“What’s the name of the place? I might come, if I have time.”

“I’ll text you directions or you might get lost. It’s kind of hard to find.”

“I won’t get lost,” he says, but Shizuo has already hung up. 

Izaya huffs in annoyance. There was absolutely no point in going to Nakano. None whatsoever. Shizuo was obviously having a little joke with his new buddies at Izaya’s expense. And there was nothing in Nakano for his own benefit; he had no contacts there, nothing that would be useful for his network. It had cheap grocery stores and apparently good noodle shops and bars, and that was it.

Izaya growls in annoyance. He knows he will go anyway, even as he rationalises not-going in his head, because he can never turn down a challenge Shizuo puts to him. 

He takes the train instead of walking. Not to save time in case he gets lost. He just feels like it.

-

He gets lost. He has followed the directions and, according to his GPS, is right outside the place, but this is clearly a dead-end residential area, with no signs, no people, let alone bars. He realises too late that this was the joke, to leave him scratching his head in the middle of nowhere. 

Never mind, he thinks. It’ll be easy to think of a way to get Shizuo back. Not now, when he’s still seething, but when he’s cooled down enough to- 

His phone pings.

_ -Get lost? _

_ -I’m outside _ , he retorts.

Shizuo’s directions were obviously useless. Assuming they were genuine and it wasn’t a joke after all. Izaya’s phone doesn’t make another sound.

One of the doors opens then. A man his own age steps out and smiles at him.

“Izaya-san?”

He holds the door open in offering.

Not knowing what else to do, Izaya follows him inside. He is so flustered that he forgets to brace himself for an ambush or practical joke or anything equally unpleasant, but there’s no need; he’s led down a sort of corridor into another building, and suddenly he is in a small, cosy bar. There are two men at the bar, and a couple with a little girl. And behind the bar is Shizuo. He grins at Izaya as he takes a stool. 

“You did get lost.”

“I didn’t, I was right outside,” he says. “Sort of. Your directions are terrible.”

“Can’t be that terrible if they got you right outside,” Shizuo points out. “You didn’t walk, huh? You’re here faster than I expected.”

“No. I’ve been on my feet all day,” he huffs.

“Sure,” Shizuo says. He puts a drink in front of him, that he had apparently been holding just out of sight. It is the colour of dark chocolate. “Here you go.”

“I don’t like coke.”

“It’s not coke.”

Izaya regards it suspiciously, and shrugs.

“Why not. How much is it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Shizuo walks off to serve the other customers before Izaya can respond.

The drink is annoyingly good.  _ Definitely _ not coke. There’s hardly any sugar at all; it’s more bitter than sweet. Izaya wonders if it is something on the menu or something Shizuo just made for him. He also wonders how much alcohol is in it, because surely something this good couldn’t be made of juice. Whatever. He will stick to his three drink limit as always to be safe. 

Shizuo talks to the other customers for a while. Izaya gets up to look around, finds some old mangas and magazines to take back to his seat with them. He’s decided he likes this place. Pity it was in Nakano. How had Shizuo even got the job here? There were two bartenders inclduing Shizuo, and they weren’t exactly rushed off their feet. Even at full capacity, the bar could probably only take about 15 people. Shizuo seems to feel his gaze and comes back over.

“Tuesday night,” he says. “Never gets that busy.”

“Maybe he’ll let you go early.”

“Oh, he will. Drink up. I want you to try something else after that.”

“I’m not having loads of drinks.”

“Not loads,” Shizuo says. “Three or four. You hungry? We could go to that noodle place afterwards.”

Izaya nearly chokes. He lifts his head to give Shizuo an angry glare - does he think this is funny, talking like it’s a date - but Shizuo’s back is turned, oblivious, as he restacks some glasses. The other bartender catches Izaya’s eye and smiles at him, and it is not malicious. What did Shizuo tell him?

Izaya flips through his manga for a while and ignores both of them. He has barely put down his glass after the final sip when Shizuo puts another glass in front of him.

“I wanted the same again,” he whines.

“You can have it later. You’ll like this one too.”

_ Later _ . Izaya will only be having three drinks, even if they are free and really good. 

He notices a dartboard then, and decides to have some fun before his drinks set in. Shizuo slips a third one in front of him when he’s not looking, but it doesn’t seem to impair him. 

He’s playing mainly to annoy Shizuo - who had always had a terrible aim since school - but his accuracy gets the attention of the entire bar (all seven of them), especially the little girl, who cheers him every time the board lights up. 

He gives a self conscious little laugh, wanting to stop, but the girl would probably cry if he did, and he only has three darts left. He gets rid of them in quick succession, hardly bothering to aim, and they all erupt in applause. 

To his mortification, the bartender brings a giant teddy out from the back and presents it to him. 

“Your prize,” the bartender explains.

“No, no, that’s all right,” Izaya says awkwardly, while Shizuo laughs at him. 

The little girl toddles over before her parents can stop her, and holds out her arms expectantly. Relieved, Izaya gives it to her. It it almost bigger than she is. Her parents try to make him take it back, but he insists. The little girl hugs his leg in delight, with some difficulty, as she won’t let go of the teddy bear. Shizuo watches all of this, and seems to be enjoying himself immensely.

_ Why the fuck did I come here _ ? Izaya thinks.

“Looks like I’ve got a rival,” Shizuo chuckles, indicating the girl. 

_ He didn’t just say that. I misheard him or he meant something else. Something else I can’t figure out the meaning of, but I will later on, when things are less fucking weird. _

“You’re pretty entertaining, Izaya-kun,” Shizuo says now. “I should bring you to bars more often.”

Shizuo’s fellow bartender is still upset that Izaya does not have a prize to take home. He goes into the backroom - what the hell did they keep back there? - and comes out with a little chibi keyring of the teddy Izaya had given to the little girl. 

“Thanks,” Izaya says.

He puts it in his pocket and buries himself in the manga again, hoping they all forget about him.

Shizuo gives him a condescending little pat on the head.

“Well done.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“We can go soon. Watch this a minute, would you?” He places a white cocktail next to Izaya’s that almost looks like a glass of milk but isn’t quite. It has what might be strawberries in it, and presumably some alcohol.

“I don’t want another drink.”

“It’s not for you. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Does it have milk in it?”

“Yes,” Shizuo says, sounding proud.

Izaya studies it dubiously, as Shizuo goes outside for a cigarette. He’s unable to resist a sip. It’s surprisingly not bad; sweet, but not overly so. Refreshing. The other bartender catches Izaya with the glass and gives him another smile. Was everyone in Nakano this friendly? It wasn’t normal.

“You have a restroom?” Izaya blurts.

He splashes his face with water to cool down. He’s pleased to find his reflection in the mirror isn’t as flushed as he expected. He’s fine. 

His phone buzzes with a voicemail notification. He takes it out, and stares in dismay when he sees he has a missed call from Shiki. When had that happened? He never misses calls. He sometimes chose not to answer, but he never  _ misses _ calls. He calls back immediately.

“Shiki-san. Sorry I missed your call.”

“That’s all right, Orihara-san, it’s not urgent. I just need to bring forward your deadline for what we discussed. You said you’d already made some good progress?”

“Ah, yes,” Izaya says, wilting inside. “Bring it forward to when? Midnight?”

Shiki chuckles.

“Ah, no. It’s not that urgent this time. How’s Friday?”

An impromptu cheer breaks out from the men at the bar, presumably at something on the TV. 

“Are you out?” Shiki asks him.

“Yes. Sorry.”

Shiki chuckles. “That’s all right, you’re allowed to go out.” Dear God, would everyone amuse themselves at Izaya’s expense tonight? “Midnight on Friday, please. Enjoy yourself.”

Going back into the bar is like surfacing a river for air. Shizuo looks tense, but relaxes when he spots Izaya. Perhaps he thought the informant had done a runner. 

“OK?” he says, taking a sip of his milky cocktail and licking away the excess. “We can go soon.”

They finish their drinks and get ready to leave. Shizuo says goodbye to his former colleague, and the little girl insists on hugging Izaya’s legs one last time. He’s relieved no-one takes pictures.

The neighbourhood is as still as ever outside. Izaya notices they come out a different way, a way that has a sign, but he can’t be bothered arguing about it all now. Shizuo leads him through the houses to somewhere a bit livelier, clearly some sort of eating district.

“Um, it’s not fancy,” Shizuo warns. “But it does good noodles.”

It is anything but fancy; with machines to order from, a silent chef and water the only drink on offer. Izaya insists on paying - all his free drinks had probably cost more.

But it is fast, and it is  _ really _ good. So much seafood! Most places at this price normally only threw in a prawn or two. It wasn’t too salty either.

“Good, right?” Shizuo says, slurping away. 

“Good. You’ll miss this place when you stop working here.”

“Guess I’ll have to come back to visit.”

They finish their food without talking again. The food is too good for talking.

Izaya sits back when he’s done, warm and full and happy. He forgot just how perfect a delicious bowl of noodles could be. Shizuo meets his eyes and smiles, the most mellowed out Izaya has ever seen him.

“You walking home?”

“I think I’ll live a little and get the train.”

They walk to the station in companionable silence. It is late enough for them to easily get seats on their line. 

Izaya could ask Shizuo over. He’d stayed within his drinking limit, he’d had something to eat and a short walk, not to mention an impromptu mental shake from Shiki. Did Shizuo expect to be asked over? Izaya looks at him, leaning back in his seat. He’d have to run if he wanted to make the last connection to Ikebukuro from Shinjuku, and he didn’t look like someone about to run. 

“Want to come over?” Izaya hears himself saying.

“Sure.”

Well, at least he doesn’t have to dither about it any more. He leads Shizuo out of the station to his trusty shortcut, so they wouldn’t have to cross a hundred roads.

“Isn’t this the shady part of town?” Shizuo says dubiously. 

“No more than Ikebukuro. It’s faster, and I walk here all the time.”

So they keep walking. Izaya isn’t thinking about anything until someone says “Orihara?”

This should be enough to jolt him, but he is so out of it that he stupidly thinks it is Shizuo and wonders why Shizuo is calling him Orihara, until they lurch at him. Shizuo pulls him out of the way, but not quite quick enough; his attacker overbalances, and the knife sinks into Izaya’s thigh instead. It is pulled out before Izaya’s realised what happened, and he hears them running away.

“Izaya?” Shizuo’s arm is around him, holding him up. 

“I’m OK,” he says, feeling his jeans dampen with blood. He’s shaking and can’t seem to stop. 

“I’ll call Shinra.”

“No, get me out of here.” Those who had noticed that happened are staring with dull curiosity, street girls and pushers. The world does not need to know is injured.

“Izaya- “

“I’m not standing here bleeding on the street,” he snaps. 

“OK,” Shizuo says. He puts an arm round him and helps him limp home.

“I have to make a phone call,” Izaya says, and he doesn’t mean Shinra. It’s nearly 1am, but whatever, Shiki doesn’t sleep. 

“Hi, Shiki-san. Live update for you. Our friend is in town tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“He just stabbed me in the leg.”

“I thought you sounded odd.” Shiki thinks for a minute, as Shizuo helps him into the elevator. Izaya squeezes his arm gratefully. “Are you in Shinjuku? I’m not far from your apartment. I’ll pick you up and take you to Shinra’s and we’ll talk on the way.”

“Sounds good. I’ve just got home. Um, you might want to cover your car seat with something.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be ten minutes.”

He hangs up and looks at Shizuo, who is looking incredulous.

“He’s making you work after you’ve been stabbed?”

“He’s not making me, he’s taking me to Shinra’s. You have to go,” he says. He steps out of Shizuo’s arms and out of the lift, wincing as he does so. He fumbles for his keys.

“Let me wait with you ‘til he gets here.”

“You can’t, he’ll think you’re involved and he might get funny.” He practically pushes Shizuo out the door. “Sorry, Shizuo. Get out of here before he sees you.”

“Let me know you’re all right,” he says, just before Izaya shuts the door, shuts his eyes and leans against it. Fuck. How could he be so stupid?

The pain is somehow worse with Shizuo gone. He wants to sit down, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to get back up again. He settles for remaining against the door, hoping the blood will come out of his carpet. Namie will probably know have some concoction for that. His jeans are ruined, though. He steadies himself and limps to the kitchen for a towel.  _ Come on, Shiki.  _

He tries not to think about Shizuo but he can’t help it. It was all ruined now. Shizuo would remember nothing of this night except the stabbing, after it had all been so perfect. Maybe it’s a sign. 

A faint ping comes from the corridor. The elevator. Izaya fumbles for the door, shaking and wet with blood. He gets the door open, and stumbles into Shiki’s arms as he overbalances. 

“I’ll get blood on you,” he warns, a little too late. He was expecting Shiki’s driver. 

“I think I’ll live.”

Shiki gets Izaya down to his car and they gun out into the night, cutting at least three red lights. Those who have time to recognise the car don’t honk, and the police will carefully ignore the CCTV footage when they see the registration plate. Perks of the job. Ambulances probably have a harder time getting through traffic than Shiki. 

Shiki gives him a fresh cloth to absorb the blood, and offers him painkillers. 

“I’m glad you called me straight away,” Shiki says. “We need to be prepared. Was he on his own?”

“ ‘ Think so,” he says. He is concentrating too hard on not fainting to be of much use, so Shiki leaves him alone after a few more questions. 

Next thing he knows the man is shaking his arm. “We’re here.”

He guides Izaya out of the car and into the foyer, not quite as gently as Shizuo had helped him, making him wince.

“Slower?” Shiki says, doing so. 

Shiki must have called ahead, as Shinra is waiting for them with the door open. 

“Shiki-san. Izaya,” he greets. He comes to Izaya’s other side, and they get him to the sofa, which Shinra has already covered with a sheet.

“Take your trousers off,” Shinra says to Izaya. Then he turns to Shiki and starts talking to him. Izaya waits for them to finish and for Shiki to go away. 

When it’s clear he’s not going to, Izaya removes his shoes and pants while they chit-chat behind him, almost passing out with the effort. He slumps back when he’s done, exhausted. It’s not exactly pleasant, having his bare legs out for Shiki’s display, but he’s in too much pain to care. 

“It’s not so bad,” he hears Shinra say.

“It fucking hurts,” he growls.

“You’ve had worse,” Shinra points out.

Shiki pets Izaya’s sweat-soaked hair and continues to speak to Shinra.

“Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy because his night out has been spoiled.”

Izaya closes his eyes on Shinra’s curious gaze, relieved when Shiki finally walks away to gives him some privacy.

“Clumsy wound,” Shinra comments as he gets to work. “They missed, right?”

_ Clumsy _ is all Izaya hears. He has been clumsy in front of his date/enemy and he has been clumsy in front of his employer, all because he was too lazy and too cocky to take the safe way home and pay attention to what was going on around him.

“Izaya?” 

He doesn’t open his eyes, even when he can feel Shinra’s done.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He shakes his head.

“I was…”

“You were what?”

He shakes his head again, wanting to tell him but not knowing how to shorten it into words.

Shinra squeezes his good knee.

“I’ll make you some tea.” He pauses. “And I’ll lend you a pair of trousers.”

Izaya sits there shaking as Shinra calls to Shiki to see if he wants some tea. He goes away for a while, then helps Izaya change into a pair of sweatpants. He sits with him for a moment, his body blocking Shiki from view, until Izaya is relatively calm.

“OK,” he says. 

Shinra calls Shiki, and they both help Izaya to the door. Shiki pays for Shinra’s service.

“Shame,” he remarks in the car. “I wanted you to be involved in this to the end.”

Izaya’s eyes fly open as if he’d been struck.

“What?”

Shiki looks around, deadpan.

“You can’t expect to keep working on this when you’ll be off your feet for at least a week.” 

“But I can- “

“I know, but there’s only so much you can do online, someone else would have to step in anyway. It would be easier to just hand over the job.”

Izaya says nothing.

“You’ll still get your fee,” Shiki adds, as if this will placate him. It’s not about the money, but his professional pride. If he’s not a good informant he’s no use to anyone. 

Shiki appears to read his mind and pats his uninjured leg. “It happens to the best of us,” he says. “And it could have been worse. Take some time off and then we’ll talk. It’s not like we’re running out of work.”

“OK,” Izaya says, slightly consoled.

“Pity it crept into your personal life too,” Shiki adds casually, though his eyes are like laser beams. “Were you on a date?”

“No,” Izaya says slowly. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know, you sounded all funny on the phone. Like I caught you at a bad time.” He chuckles.

“I wasn’t on a date.”

He takes out his keys when they turn into his street. His keyring hadn’t attached properly, and the little chibi bear falls and rolls into the seat between them between them. Shiki blinks at it and raises an eyebrow.

Izaya smirks weakly. 

“A gift from an appreciative client,” he says.

“Are you implying I should buy you toys too?”

“It’s not a toy, it’s a chibi keyring.”

Izaya picks up the chibi and hooks it safely back on to his keys.

-

Izaya wakes at 8.45am on his sofa, having decided the stairs were too much effort. This is late, for him. Namie will be here any minute, which is good; he can make her bring him things. His leg is throbbing.

“Now what?” she complains when she sees him, as if he did these things deliberately to annoy her.

“Move my things, Namie,” he orders. “I’m going to live on this floor for a while.”

“Oh yeah? And not shower? I don’t care if you’re dying, I’m not giving you a bed bath.”

Izaya wonders if all geniuses were as cruel as Namie. She has a point, though. He reverses his decision to making the journey upstairs with his laptop and non-perishable food. 

“Or maybe you can just put up with it?” Namie counters. “It’s not like your leg will come off.”

“You should be a nurse, Namie.”

“You’re only making a fuss because I’m here. If I wasn’t you’d just get on with it.”

This is also true. Bugging Namie is one of the few kicks he will get out of his day, his  _ week _ , now he has no work to do. 

She makes him a decent amount of food to keep in the fridge, catches up on filing and leaves around noon, when it’s clear he won’t be doing any work. His heart’s not in it anyway, even if Shiki had left him something to do. 

It occurs to him then that he was supposed to call Shizuo. Not that Shizuo would be biting his nails over it. Only, he’s still in a bad mood and he knows he will lash out at Shizuo in some way if they talk. Shizuo would try to be nice but eventually lose his temper, and they would be back to square one. He settles for a text.

_ -Thanks for last night. I’m OK. I’ll call you soon. _

Perfect. Now, to nap away the pain.

-

Izaya doesn’t know what Shizuo expected from ‘soon,’ but a few days go by before Izaya can manage it. He feels useless, like a lame animal. He does what sleuthing he can online, but he also spends a lot of time reading and watching cartoons. He is thus occupied when Shizuo calls  _ him _ . Izaya supposes he should have seen it coming.

“Hey,” Shizuo says cautiously. “You alive?”

“I’m alive,” he assures. “Thanks, by the way. You know. Yanking me out of the way. Otherwise the answer to that question might be a little different. How’s it feel, to save someone instead of beat them up?”

His tone gets harder as he speaks. He can feel Shizuo’s surprise down the end of the phone.

“Sorry,” Izaya blurts, before he can talk himself out of it. “I’m still in a bad mood.”

“It’s OK,” Shizuo says. “I’ll make allowances. You were stabbed.”

Izaya relaxes a touch. Izaya pats his injured leg like it was a worn-out animal.

“I’m sorry it happened,” Shizuo continues. “It was a fun night until then.”

Yeah. Sorry I forgot to call.”

“That’s OK. I called Shinra.”

“You did?”

Shizuo gets huffy about this.

“Well what did you expect me to do, call Shiki?”

Izaya says nothing, wondering what Shinra had made of that call. He clears his throat.

“You working for Tom again?”

“Yes. But maybe we could go to Nakano again one night. You know. Minus the stabbing.”

“Will I still be able to get those cocktails?”

“Sure, they just won’t be as good.”

“Or free.”

“They’ll be free for you if I pay for them.”

Izaya laughs. Part of him wonders if he’s having a painkiller induced dream.

“Can you walk?” Shizuo asks him.

“I can limp,” he says. “But I’ll be staying home for a while, just in case.”

“Oh,” Shizuo says. “Can I come over?”

“...come over?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring Pocky.”

Izaya laughs again. He’d almost forgotten their first impromptu sleepover. 

“OK. Matcha flavoured, if you can.”

“Sure. What time?”

“Whenever. I’m not doing anything.”

Well, that’s settled then. Shizuo is coming over. Izaya doesn’t think it would be as easy as the Nakano night, thinks they will probably need to build momentum again, but being injured somehow makes him feel like he has the upper hand. Shizuo will have to run and fetch things for him, and, on account of painkillers, he will not be drinking.

-

He falls into a doze. Keeps his eyes closed when he awakes until he realises there’s a faint smell of tobacco.

“Hey,” Shizuo says. The supermarket bag still in his hands suggest he has not been here long. “You always leave your door unlocked when you’ve been stabbed? I did knock, by the way.”

“My secretary left it unlocked,” Izaya whines. “And you know what Shinra’s drugs are like. Horse tranquilisers. And I knew you were coming.”

“That’s a lot of excuses. You’re meant to pick one.”

Izaya holds out his hand for the bag, ignoring him. “Pocky?”

“Yep. I got your matcha.”

He’d also got bitter chocolate, strawberry and the regular kind. 

“That’s a lot of Pocky,” Izaya says. “What do you want to watch? I’m in the middle of the Peanuts movie. Also, if you want a drink you probably better get it yourself or you’ll be waiting for me all night.”

“Put Peanuts back to the beginning. I like Snoopy. You want a drink?”

“Water’s good.”

So, Shizuo’s here and they’re watching Peanuts. What could go wrong? Well. Shizuo wouldn’t throw things at Izaya when he’s crippled, but he could walk out and never come back. 

“You got blood on your chibi,” Shizuo calls to him, spying the little bear in Izaya’s keybowl. 

“It was my initiation ritual for him,” Izaya calls back. “Now he’s truly mine.”

“Man, you’re weird. Put Snoopy on.”

He hands Izaya his water and sits beside him. 

“Pocky?” Izaya offers him.

“Strawberry.”

They watch Snoopy, dipping into various Pocky. They stay apart on the couch. 

Izaya ignores the movie and tries to guess what Shizuo was thinking. They could just be buddies now for all he knows. Shizuo had still hated him this time last week, after all. Izaya’s not even sure of his own thoughts. It’s rare for him to be interested in anyone, so rare he sometimes wonders if he has a problem, except he masturbates regularly and enthusiastically enough. Though not since the stabbing. Any kind of damage to his reputation always sends his sex drive into a nose dive. 

It would be so much easier if their Nakano night hadn’t been interrupted.

“Which leg is it again?” Shizuo asks him suddenly.

“This one,” Izaya says, holding it out. “Why, going to thump it?”

“Only if you annoy me.”

And he leans over to kiss Izaya before the informant can even think of a retort, carefully avoiding his leg.  

Someone’s phone rings. Izaya growls and feels for it, determined to aim it out the window or into one of their glasses, not caring if it is Shiki or Kasuka or the fucking emperor.

“...sorry,” Shizuo says sheepishly. “I’ll put it on silent.”

“You’ll put your dear brother on silent for me? I’m flattered.”

“You should be. And I have more people in my life than Kasuka, you know,” Shizuo huffs, flicking the side button into silent mode without looking at it. He drops his phone and kisses Izaya again. He pushes the informant back carefully, oblivious to Snoopy’s happy dance on the TV. Beside them, Shizuo’s phone glows indignantly with its unread message.

_ **-** Hurt my informant and it will be the end of you. _

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing a lot but have been far too lazy/distracted to type any of it up, so will be spamming AO3 in the coming weeks/months as I catch up :P Hopefully. Thanks for reading <3


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